


All Grown Up (Multichapter story...unfinished)

by brownskinsugarplum76



Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: 1960s, British, Childhood Friends, Concerts, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Led Zeppelin References, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownskinsugarplum76/pseuds/brownskinsugarplum76
Summary: You are listening to Led Zeppelin for the first time at a concert, and you're surprised to see Robert, a childhood friend again, for the first time in years. You're older and wiser, he's more worldly and experienced. Will you pick up where you left off?





	All Grown Up (Multichapter story...unfinished)

You tug at the hem of the minidress that your best friend let you borrow for the night. She insisted that you go for something a little more attention-grabbing than your usual jeans and a T-shirt, and you’re still getting used to it. She also insisted that the two of you get to the venue super early, so you would be guaranteed a spot right at the foot of the stage. You’re standing there now, with no clue of what to expect.

She has been raving about the group, Led Zeppelin, for the past couple of weeks after getting the tickets. She said everyone knew from their albums and word of mouth that they were an excellent, wild, new band destined for stardom. Everyone knew except you, it seemed.

Your friend was so put off by how oblivious you were to the band that she stopped talking about them. She said you’d just have to experience them for yourself to understand.

And you really did have to wait until the concert to understand what the fuss was all about. You never listened to the radio; your time was spent listening to classical piano works over and over again for inspiration and technique. You are in the music program at your school, pursuing your passion, and you have scant time for other pleasures in life.

The lights in the concert hall dim. The techs move to the sides of the stage to make room for the band, who enter under cover of near darkness.

Three musicians are poised to strike. And then there’s the singer, who is a tall reed of a man in tight clothes with overflowing locks. You are curious to take in his appearance when the lights go up.

The first song, an overpowering onslaught of psychedelic blues rock, begins. It is nothing like your favorite concertos–it is loud, fast, and heavy. The latter is a term you’d heard recently, being bandied about by your classmates, but you never understood what it meant until this moment. The music slams into your ears, sets fire to your senses, makes your heart race.

The slender front man is nowhere as smooth as Sam Cooke or The Supremes, acts you’ve heard through the walls of your sister’s room. But you understand that that’s the point. He wails with the pitch and intensity of an approaching fire truck. He bellows audibly without aid of the microphone at one point. He holds notes long enough to make you breathless when you think about how passionate and powerful he is on the stage, and how he must similarly express himself in intimate moments. You realize that his voice is intended to be just as evocative and chaotic as what the musicians are doing, as though he possesses a fourth instrument.

He looks to be one of the youngest members of the group, but he is certainly holding his own on the stage. His singing is memorable, but his looks are arresting in their own right. His striped white pants are shockingly tight, as if they had been painted on, and a clingy black T-shirt accentuates the crisp lines of his chest and curves of his sinewy arms. But most captivating is his face–delicately youthful but undeniably masculine at the same time. There is also something very familiar about it that you can’t explain.

His moves are frenzied and erratic, but his body in motion is an added bonus of the performance, as far as you are concerned.

You watch him throw his head back. With his hair out of his face, you know instantly why he seems familiar.

Robert?

Robert Plant. You can’t believe it. You haven’t seen him in several years. You became fast friends with him in the first year of class you had together, when you were on the cusp of being teenagers. You recall how he talked incessantly about acts like Elvis and Sonny Boy Williamson, and how he loved hearing you describe your piano lessons and long hours of practice. He told you that he had begun his singing by hiding behind the living room curtains and letting it all out. You told him of your dreams to become like Nina Simone.

A year or two later, things changed. You shared a quick, awkward kiss when he walked you home from school one day, the first kiss for both of you. Then you stole moments away, before or after school, to kiss a little more under the football field bleachers, where you occasionally let your hands wander over each other.

On that one fateful weekend, he hugged you when the tears welled up in your eyes as you told him you’d be moving away. You exchanged addresses and promised to write each other, but that fell apart after two or three rounds of correspondence that were spaced months apart.

You had lost track of him, and you’d always wondered what had become of him. Now you know.

Your emotions swirl. You are incredibly proud of him, but also unbelievably surprised. And then there is a low hum of arousal that you can’t deny, as it becomes more and more unbearable by the second. There’s the thought of the fun, sweet exploring you once had with Robert, at alarming odds with a desire to be with him in more adult ways.

These thoughts surprise you, because you intended to remain a virgin until you wed. But a reunion with Robert is too irresistible to ignore. You feel pretty sure that kisses won’t be enough, that he has a good deal of experience under his belt now. The way he moves and howls, and the way most of the girls in the audience have their eyes on him are a dead giveaway.

He seems a bit more mature, more dangerous as a member of his roguish band, but in his smile there is still a bit of the boy that you knew. You can tell performing is a great source of enjoyment for him. He was right, years ago, about the stage being his home.

As the band plays, he grabs the hands of the people in the front row. When he comes to you, his smile is the brightest flash imaginable. He recognizes you instantly, even proves he remembers your name by mouthing it. He kisses your hand, grins broadly, and returns to the microphone stand once the band stops playing.

“Before I introduce us, I’d like to extend a special welcome to someone who was near and dear to me a number of years ago, someone who encouraged me to keep singing when I just wanted to hide behind my mum’s curtains. I’m up here, in part, because of you. Thank you, and we must get reacquainted after the show!”

The crowd cheers while you blush and your best friend sends you a murderous look. “You knew Led Zeppelin’s cute singer all this time?” she demands incredulously.

“Uh, yeah, but I didn’t know it. We were close when we were younger, but I haven’t heard from him in a while.” You say this in your defense while offering an apologetic smile.

“I can’t believe it. Well, it sounds like he wants to be close again! Lucky you! You have to introduce me to him!”

“Sure!” You’re still stunned. You’ll process your emotions later, when you’re face to face with Robert and he can fill in the blanks of how he ended up in England’s hottest new band. For now, you let the music wash over you, think of the memories of the past, and marvel at the strange, new mixture of butterflies in your stomach and an insistent pulse having been awakened in your core.


End file.
